I am aging without sound

Baby Picture

It's in the heart of the grape where that smile lies. It's in the good-bye-bow in the hair where that smile lies. It's in the clerical collar of the dress where that smile lies. What smile? The smile of my seventh year, caught here in the painted photograph. It's peeling now, age has got it, a kind of cancer of the background and also in the assorted features. It's like a rotten flag or a vegetable from the refrigerator, pocked with mold. I am aging without sound, into darkness, darkness. Anne, who are you? I open the vein and my blood rings like roller skates. I open the mouth and my teeth are an angry army. I open the eyes and they go sick like dogs with what they have seen. I open the hair and it falls apart like dust balls. I open the dress and I see a child bent on a toilet seat. I crouch there, sitting dumbly pushing the enemas out like ice cream, letting the whole brown world turn into sweets. Anne, who are you? Merely a kid keeping alive  - Anne Sexton I love her poetry, probably too much if such a thing can exist....if you can actually love poetry too much. Her poetry is the first thing i read that actually made sense, made sense like the bible makes sense to some people. LIke, Oh i get it, i believe in it,bc i already know it is true.  Surely it comes from a place of self absorption...i mean, clearly i love her work bc i relate to it. i relate to it in all its sickness and filth and beauty. and awkward subjects and rejection and...no one wants to hear this side of it all. this side of life. the side that some of us can't escape from. Oh well. I m on vacation. I left Louisiana for Michigan for a week. Why does nothing ever feel like relief? I will say I do love that lake..really and truly with much of a passion... i connect with nature in a way that is uncanny..even to me... in a way that surprises me when it happens. What else is there to connect to?